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Lost, Like a Wandering Wraith, ..... 

He played his pipes.....

A haunting, soulful sound,

as people came, 

and laid their flowers, 

on the ground.

Eerily.... 

For the music seemed,

to clear the sky, and brush .....

The clouds, away.

And all the while. 

As the sun broke through

Moisture from the leaves.

Wakened on the breeze,

fell ......

Like silent tears.

So gentle,

it didst not disturb.....

The heroes slumber.

Those that fell at Arnhem.

And who now, 

lay asleep, 

below 

At Oosterbeek.

Giajl © Jim Love